


Apprentice

by SashaDistan



Series: Ink Boys [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Image, Body Worship, Competition, Drawing, Family Bonding, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Meet-Cute, Romantic Fluff, tattoo parlor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:22:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26364118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SashaDistan/pseuds/SashaDistan
Summary: Tattoo apprentices have tattoos. It's a given. A rule.Kip does not have tattoos, and he won't get them, and he can't tell anyone why he's training to be a tattoo artist whilst he's a tattoo virgin. He's the other kind of virgin too, but Kip can't think about that right now. Now, he's got to learn how to be a really good canvas...
Relationships: Kip/Niels
Series: Ink Boys [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1915813
Kudos: 19





	1. 1

Kip watched the two artists and their last clients leave in a loud rabble of colour interspersed with black, and then went back to sweeping the shop floor. Only the shop’s owner and the senior apprentice remained, talking over the light box whilst Kip emptied the bins at the artist’s stations and set the trash bag by the door to go out. Five minutes later, the tattoo studio was clean and shiny as a new pin.

“All done boss. Is there anything else you want me to do?”

The senior apprentice gave Kip a smirk.

“Done? You think you’re done?” his crowing attitude was not something Kip enjoyed, but he kept his features carefully passive. After all he wasn’t there to impress another apprentice, but there wasn’t any advantage to having Jon trying to ruin his life either. “You’re never going to become an artist if you think that’s all it takes to clean up a studio.”

The boss held up one hand, and Jon stopped talking, though not fast enough.

“Tell me.” AJ was a man of very few words, except when he was discussing ink, and he was one of the reasons Kip had chosen to apprentice at the Brick and Tenth studio. No one did contemporary black and greys, full saturated colour, and slick graphics like AJ did. Well, almost no one.

“I did the trash, put new bags in the bins, swept, wiped down all the counters, and all the ink bottles, lined them up in colour order,” Kip ticked jobs off on his fingers as he went, “Made sure each station has gloves, blue roll, tape, Vaseline, cling-film, and distilled water. I dusted the windowsills at the front and wiped down the big leather couch and the artist’s chairs.” He paused, “Did I miss anything?”

Jon gaped, open mouthed, but Kip didn’t much care. AJ’s brow furrowed.

“And how did you know to do all that?”

“Well, Matti told me about wiping down his bottles and his station, so I figured I’d do the same for everyone. And I heard Shay complaining about the sofa being sticky where someone,” she’d said Jon, “had spilt soda on it.”

“And the rest?”

“It needed doing. No point opening up tomorrow and having to go hunting for gloves. We need to get more Vaseline next time the supplies are ordered.” Kip smiled. “So, is there anything else you want me to do?”

AJ narrowed his eyes, and Kip got the distinct feeling he was being sized up in the same manner a wolf might regard a large deer.

“Go draw me a rose.”

“Yes boss.”

It hadn’t been quite the first thing Kip had been asked at his interview.

“ _So, you got any tattoos?”_

“ _No.”_

“ _No? Why the hell not?”_

“ _I haven’t found the perfect one yet,” Kip had lied._

“ _How old are you?”_

“ _Twenty-two.”_

“ _Please tell me you brought a portfolio?” Matti had done most of the actual talking, and AJ had stood there looking over his shoulder as the blue-haired man had leafed through his work. “Art school?”_

“ _Two years at Westward College of Design. I just finished my degree from Black Mountain U.”_

“ _Speciality?”_

“ _Sculpture.” Kip had winced at the general reaction._

“ _Draw me a rose.” AJ had kept his voice low, and given no detail, but Kip didn’t need asking twice. He grabbed his mechanical pencil from his pocket, a piece of blank paper from the light box and drew. He was quick, but he also knew he was being timed. He hadn’t even finished the final line when AJ interrupted him. “A car, any car.” Kip had drawn breath and applied his pencil back to the paper. Thirty seconds later it was a bird, the profile of a horses face, another rose, a snake, a skull… Only when Kip had run out of space on his flash page did AJ nod._

“ _What d’ya reckon boss?” Matti had been grinning._

“ _Five days a week, impress me and we might even pay your bus fare.”_

AJ took the rose drawing from under his pencil even as he was finishing it.

“Nice. Do more curled petals next time, and don’t add leaves unless I ask you. You can pick up the coffee order in the morning. Matti will text it to you. Don’t be late.”

“Yes sir.”

As Kip left the shop, he heard AJ admonishing his senior apprentice.

“Now why can’t you draw that good that fast?”

*

Saturdays at the studio were always super busy, there were more walk-ins, more consultations, lots of people going in and out. Kip had picked up the coffee order, and had been waiting by the front door for about a minute when Matti arrived to open up.

“Six weeks and you’ve not been late once. Well done.” Matti took his coffee order and smiled at Kip. “Leave that at the front and go get me set up. Just black ink.”

“OK.” Kip stowed his bag underneath the front desk, made sure he had a couple of pencils about his person, and pulled on gloves to set up Matti’s workstation. He hadn’t previously been asked to pour inks, just set up the pots onto little lines of Vaseline to stick them in place. Matti didn’t do black-work, but Kip put out the one pot, found Matti’s preferred black ink and filled it up.

“So this is a tattoo machine...” Matti, who was perfectly capable of acting like an overgrown child, talked all soft and smooth as he showed Kip how to put the machine together on the bench. When it was done and the lining needle was fitted, Matti offered the machine to Kip. “For heaven’s sake, sit down boy. Here.” Matti rolled up his sleeve past his bicep. “Do a star, about there.”

“Huh?” Kip was shocked.

“Do a star, not a big one. I’m gonna be getting black work all over this part of this arm anyway, so you can’t fuck it up.”

“But… that’s your skin.”

“Kip, tattooing is a physical art… at some point you’re going to have to make someone bleed.”

Kip swallowed and wiped his hands on his jeans.

“Yes sir.”

“Don’t call me sir, I’m not AJ. Get on with it.”

Kip picked up the machine and put his foot to the pedal. The vibration in his hand was fierce, but not uncontrollable, and a moment later he was loading the needle with ink. Apprentices didn’t tattoo, and kids who’d been working in the shop six weeks certainly didn’t get to tattoo. Kip knew from every artist he’d spoken to and every piece of advice and information he’d read, it would be a year, if he was lucky, before he got to tattoo. Generally apprentices were expected to use themselves as canvas, but for Kip, that wasn’t an option. He knew, in abstract, he’d been doing well, making good drawings and turning in good flash sheets, but he’d never expected Matti to trust him like this.

Kip got a good grip on Matti’s arm and set the edge of his hand in place to steady himself before he drew his first line. He could have been using a Sharpie for all the reaction Matti gave him. Ten short lines and four wipe downs later, Kip thought he was done, but Matti had him add and few more stars, and even though he didn’t give any direction, Kip automatically made them slightly smaller, rotated the angle a little bit each time and added some artistry to the composition of the piece.

_As much as can be done with stars anyway._

Afterwards, Matti thanked him and rubbed cocoa butter on his new tattoo. By the time the others arrived at the studio, Kip was firing up the computer, Matti was sketching a new stencil for a returning client, and no one was any the wiser.

AJ often arrived later on a Saturday after spending the morning with his children. After the first week, Kip had worked out what the head artist liked when he came in, and had cold bottled water waiting at AJ’s station, a glass of sweet tea to hand to him at the front desk, and print-outs of general studio emails for AJ to look over and assign to different artists. AJ smiled at him as he took his sweet tea, and handed Kip a sketch pad.

“I want an entire alphabet of animals, mixed styles please. You have three hours.”

“Yes boss.” Kip heard Jon sniggering behind him.

AJ’s gaze snapped up and his eyes hardened.

“I dunno what you’re looking so happy about. You have to do one too.”

“But,” Jon looked shocked, “I haven’t got a sketchbook.”

“You’ve been here a year, you should have it with you.” AJ shook his head. “Find some paper, and don’t steal off Kip.”

Kip flicked through the blank sketch book. It was the type of thin, almost tracing paper, favoured by tattoo artists. It felt super smooth under his fingers. Kip grabbed the rest of his drawing supplies from his bag and took himself away to the light-table. He loved drawing animals, but he didn’t want to start right away and run out of ideas before he ran out of time. Kip scrawled the alphabet down on the first page and started filling in animals. He scratched out aardvark when he filled in pangolin and replaced it with antelope. He stuck with bear, squid, and walrus, but played around with camel, cat and crocodile before settling on cockerel. After working out which ones would be Japanese, which graphic, and which traditional, Kip started at the beginning of the alphabet, grabbed his reference photos up on his phone, and free-handed his first animal. He was already working on his soft contemporary fox when Jon sat down next to him, loose sheets of paper in one hand. Instantly the other apprentice reached over and stole Kip’s second favourite mechanical pencil.

“You didn’t bring _anything_ with you?”

“Shut up new kid,” Jon seemed to dislike using Kip’s name. He scowled at his page, and then began to sketch out the rough outline of a fox. Kip wasn’t surprised. “This is such a stupid task.”

“Why?” Kip cursed himself the moment he’d spoken. He had promised himself when he got the job he would just keep his head down, defer to the skill and knowledge of the artists he was there to learn from, and not get involved in any drama or rivalries. “We’re going to be expected to be versatile, and there’s such a variety in animals. I’m just pleased AJ didn’t ask for an alphabet made up of cars. That would be way harder.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re weird?” Jon cursed his page, screwed it up and aimed for the trash. He missed. “Go fetch that.”

Kip stilled his tongue from replying, but got up, and put the ruined fox sketch in the trash. When he returned to his chair, his sketches were gone, and Jon was drawing a fish of indeterminate species. Kip wanted to shout at him, push the smug bastard off his chair, and tear Jon’s stuff apart looking for his work, but he knew it would be a waste of time. Instead, he sat back down, started at the beginning of the alphabet, and drew another antelope without even having to look up.

Two hours later Kip was just putting the final touches on his stylized zebra head when AJ called them over. He looked at Jon’s work first, and nodded along as he rifled through the pages. Kip handed his over without a word. AJ frowned.

“Why have you done the same animals?” He placed the two antelopes side by side. Kip’s second one was better, if only because he’d had to repeat himself. Kip scowled as he realised Jon hadn’t managed to complete his alphabet and was trying to pass Kip’s stolen designs off as his own. AJ tapped Jon’s sketch. “Who drew this?” The silence was telling. AJ growled, grabbed the sketches and threw them at Jon. “You idiot!”

“But AJ, you always say ‘work smart, not hard’.”

“There is a difference between that and outright theft,” AJ was clearly keeping from yelling. He would never appear so unprofessional in front of clients. “Go and fetch lunch.”

“But-?”

“Shut up Jon. Just go.”

AJ exhaled a long slow breath, and turned to Kip.

“You can’t let him take advantage of you like that. Stand up for yourself.”

“I don’t want to get into any fights,” Kip always felt smaller and younger than he was when AJ looked at him. He was a bear of a man, and Kip couldn’t help the effect the awe and power had over him. “I just want to learn and be useful.”

“That’s admirable,” AJ smiled softly. “He ever tries something like that again you give him what-for OK? That’s an order.”

“Yes boss.”

“Now go help Matti clear down and he’ll teach you how to wrap his client.”

*

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes.” Kip grinned up at his uncle. “I’m totally sure.”

“You know it means you won’t be able to have any other tattoos? You might find that hard. You’re going to meet lots of cool artists in this business and want their work. Are you sure you’re up for saying no _every_ time?”

“I’m sure. It’ll be worth it.”

“Well that’s for damn sure.” Dirk Jeroen Meijer appraised his nephew and nodded to himself. “And you’re going to have to wait. Your mother says there’s no way you’re allowed to put yourself through this much pain before you graduate, and your aunt thinks we should let you fill out a bit too. She’s probably right, she is about most things.”

“I can wait a couple of years,” Kip shrugged. “After all, it’s gonna take you a long time to come up with the perfect award winning design.”

“You cheeky little sod.” Dirk grabbed Kip around the neck and ruffled his hair. “You know you’re my favourite nephew, right?”

“You tell me all the time.”

“That’s because it’s true. Just don’t tell the others.”

“Yes Uncle,” Kip hugged his favourite relation hard, “I’m going to miss you when you go home. It’s such a long way away.”

“We have the internet in The Netherlands now little boy, I’ll be there for you.”

Kip always made sure to spend as much time as he could with his family when they came to visit. Despite living thousands of miles apart, Kip had always been close to his uncle. He remembered as a child being fascinated by the painted man with his strange accent and unintelligible language. Dirk Jeroen never seemed to mind that Kip wanted to talk about the pictures on his skin, trace the lines and colours with his little fingers. As he’d got older, he’d discovered his uncle was easier to talk to than his parents, listened with a soft and careful manner, and Kip would tell him all sorts of things he’d never be brave enough to tell his parents. His uncle was the first person he told when he’d kissed a boy, the first person he’d told when he’d been in love, the first person he’d told when he’d had his heart broken.

That trip he’d been allowed to drive his aunt and uncle to the airport under his mother’s careful supervision, and Kip had sniffed back his tears until Dirk Jeroen had ruffled his hair and hugged him hard. By the time they’d disappeared through the departure gate, Kip had been crying too hard to drive home.

*

“You been practising on yourself Matti?” Shay ran a long manicured finger over the clear dressing covering the stars on Matti’s arm. “Those,” she tapped Kip’s sketches on the front desk, a flash sheet of wings of various types, “are looking very good. Well done you.”

Kip glanced up and smiled.

“You had your nails done.”

“I like you Kip,” Shay fingered Kip’s curly blond forelock, “you notice things. None of this lot even noticed when I died my hair bright red.”

“Oh, we noticed,” AJ stepped out from the storeroom, “but it was a horrendous colour on you love. No one liked to say so.”

“Boys...” Shay rolled her eyes and departed for her station.

“Who tattooed you Matti? AJ took his friend’s arm and examined the stars. “You’re not right handed.”

Matti glanced across the desk at Kip and grinned.

“Kip did them.”

“What?” Jon stood inside the door of the shop, his jaw metaphorically scraping the floor. “You let him tattoo someone? He’s a child!”

“This doesn’t concern you Jon.” Matti’s voice was full of warning, but Kip doubted Jon’s anger could have been stopped by a freight train.

“Bollocks it doesn’t. I’m putting in my hard work and paying my dues! Who the fuck did he bite pillow for to get his hands on a machine?”

“Jon...” AJ practically growled.

“Uppity little shit!” Jon grabbed Kip’s flash sheets with one long arm and Kip felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as the paper crumpled and ripped. “I’ve worked too hard for you to come and take it from me!”

“Jon, get out!” AJ’s big hands spun the lanky young man round and pushed him towards the door. “Get outside and calm down. I’ll speak to you in a minute.” AJ held firm until Jon had left, then he turned to Matti. “I’ll speak to you now, in my office.” AJ looked at Kip and forced himself to smile. “Set up my station, then draw roses until I get back. Do not go outside.”

“Yes boss...” Kip stared after the tattooists as they left, then blinked away the tears which welled in his eyes. As he crossed the studio to AJ’s station, Shay noticed his red rimmed eyes.

“Don’t worry sweetie, AJ’s not mad at you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But he’s going to shout at Matti, and it’s all my fault.” Kip dragged his knuckles across his eyes and cursed himself. He hated that he cried so easily. It made people think he was smaller, weaker, and younger than he was.

“Matti will talk him around; it was his idea right? Then you’ve got nothing to worry about. Just do as he asked.”

When Matti returned he looked like he traded verbal blows with a bear, but hadn’t been beaten. He gave Kip and thumbs up as he went to the drawing table. AJ was outside with Jon much longer, long enough in fact for his first client to arrive and be kept waiting. Kip got the young woman a drink and apologised for his boss’s absence, and she didn’t seem to mind too much. He didn’t get an opportunity to speak to AJ when he came back in. The head artist saw his client, turned on the charm, and had her stencilled up and in the chair within five minutes. Jon came back in with an expression black like thunder, and Kip did his best to stay out of the senior apprentice’s way.

“That was a very clean job you did,” AJ turned the pages of Kip’s sketchbook with deliberate slowness. “Every single line dead straight, bang on angle and sharp. Matti said you did it freehand?

“Yes sir.”

“You’ve either got natural talent, or you’ve been doing some scratching at home you’ve not told us about. It better not be the latter.”

“No sir!”

“Show me your legs,” AJ looked mildly suspicious.

Kip blushed, but fumbled with his belt, and pushed down his jeans. The easiest place for a person to tattoo themselves was their upper thigh, it was a nice big flat space and you could sit and use both hands while you worked. His uncle had told him most of the guys he’d ever worked with had some kind of cover up tattoo on one or both their legs where they’d used themselves as practice palettes during their training. Kip’s skin was pale, smooth, and unmarked.

“Alright, get dressed.” Kip was grateful for the instruction. It wasn’t that he fancied his boss, but there was something about a big man with a deep voice telling him what to do that made Kip go a bit dizzy. Half-dressed it was not a reaction he could easily control. “You did very well. Now convention says you shouldn’t get your hands on a machine for at least another eight months, but it seems a bit late for that. Matti is going to help you pick a good machine out of the catalogue OK?”

“Thank you.”

“Problem is, I’m going to have to start Jon tattooing too, or he’s going to be totally unmanageable, and I can’t have the reputation of the shop suffering.” AJ sighed, and it was easy to tell he was unhappy about the situation. “Get back to drawing.”

“But, shouldn’t I go and get lunch?” Kip had been sent to get everyone’s lunches every day since he’d started.

“No. Jon can do it.”

The senior apprentice looked like he was going to complain, but said nothing, and stalked unhappily away.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kip's secret comes out, and gets a chance to practice some flirting.

The first tattoo machine Kip had ever held had belonged to his uncle. He’d been sixteen, just on the verge of really wanting to understand ink, and Dirk Jeroen had allowed him to the hold the surprisingly heavy machine with its red rubber grips and oxidised brass plate. The first machine he’d used should have been Matti’s, and though Matti had broken an unwritten rule of apprenticing by getting Kip to tattoo him, Kip had broken a far bigger one.

It had been his idea, inspired by watching a dark film about surgery and body modification where a girl had practised sutures on an oven-ready turkey, and it was the only secret Kip had ever kept from his uncle. He’d felt guilty about it, but the idea of one day getting a machine in his hand and dropping it in shock, or screwing up a line on someone’s skin had made the decision easier. In his last year at art school, Kip had poured a big chunk of his savings into a Mickey Bee Copper Sting liner machine and a Sunskin Primus One for shading and colour work. Having hung around in his uncle’s tattoo studio, he knew two machines was a paltry number, but it was at least a start, considering he shouldn’t own any.

Kip had called in at the butcher’s shop on the way home from the studio, and he was a regular enough customer that now the butcher kept pig skin trimmings back for him, un-scored and smooth, from joints which didn’t require crackling. The butcher probably thought Kip made pork scratchings with it, but he’d never asked, and Kip didn’t fancy sharing. At home, he laid cling-film out on his work bench, unrolled and smoothed the pig skin and shaved it with a disposable Bic razor. There was a reason Kip was so good at free handing, he couldn’t afford a stencil machine, and so he took a pen and drew out a traditional koi carp with finger waves, and set about outlining it in long smooth motions.

Tattooing was relaxing to Kip. With nothing to focus on but the buzzing of the machine in his hand, the ink, the skin under his fingers, he let his mind go gently blank. Unlike drawing, where he concentrated on every line, every curve, and the minutiae detail of colour fades at the end of his pencil, when Kip was applying ink into skin, he found he didn’t need to actively think at all. As he switched to his shading machine and began to add very non-traditional neon green into the koi carps scales, Kip daydreamed about the tattoo which would one day adorn his skin.

Only once had he been tempted to get a tattoo of his own, and even then it was something he only considered for like, a half a day, before his resolve and promise kicked his brain back into line. Living on opposite sides of the world, he and his uncle had done most of their consultations over the phone or on video chat. Kip had started out with the fact that the tattoo design was supposed to win an award, so he wanted to give Dirk Jeroen free reign, but his uncle had told him some direction was good, and Kip had chosen various aspects of the tattoo, and knew whatever it looked like, it would feature an Egyptian theme, and because it had been designed by his uncle, it would be awesome. Kip wondered if he would miss his blank pale skin one day. Not for the first time, he was quietly grateful his romantic life had stalled recently, and there was no one in his life he was going to need to explain himself to. Kip finished off the tattoo, washed away the remaining ink, and as he began to clear down and clean his station, glanced at the calendar on the wall, counting down the day until Dirk Jeroen would be back in the country and would start his tattoo.

*

It had been a quiet day. Unseasonably hot, everyone for miles around had apparently gone to hit the beach, and the streets around the studio were dead and baking in the heat. Matti let the front door swing closed behind him and stood directly under the air conditioning unit with his hands held out in supplication.

“How’s the weather?” AJ asked, looking up from the drawing table where he was working his way through a few upcoming pieces.

“Hotter than the inside of the sun.” Matti glanced up to where Kip was scrubbing the windowsills and the black painted woodwork at the back of the shop. “Aww Kip, leave it bud. It’s way too hot for manual labour.”

“Not much left,” Kip didn’t take his eyes from his work. Truthfully, he’d have rather been drawing, or watching AJ draw and learning things from the lead artist, but it had needed doing, and Kip didn’t want anyone to think he was shirking his responsibilities just because of the weather. Only Shay had seen a client today, and that was just for a two hour touch up to a sleeve she’d completed weeks before.

“Dedicated.”

Kip glanced quickly over his shoulder, and was in time to see the meaningful look that passed between AJ and Matti.

“Alright you two,” AJ gestured to Kip, and to where Jon stood, lounging and looking bored against the front desk, “get over here.”

Kip finished wiping down the woodwork, stowed the cleaning supplies, and washed his hands. Somehow he still made it over to AJ before Jon did.

“Each of you draw me a rose, traditional style, three minutes. Go.”

It wasn’t anything AJ hadn’t asked them before, but as the big man strode around them scrutinizing every move their pencils made, Kip knew something different was coming. Kip put dotted lines in to guide the level of where the shading would go on a finished tattoo, and lined up all his pencils when he was finished.

“Very clean, very crisp.” AJ patted his shoulder, then took Jon’s drawing, “Jeez boy, you got enough petals in there to make a peony. Alright,” he handed Jon’s image to Kip, and shoved Kip’s drawing at Jon, “go make stencils.” As Jon moved to take his drawing back, AJ shook his head. “Nope. you’re going to tattoo him with his own drawing, Kip’ll do you with yours.” Kip had the momentary satisfaction to see Jon looking disappointed, before reality kicked in. “Go make stencils!”

The stencil machine was one of the things Jon knew how to use but Kip didn’t, but he’d watched Matti plenty of times. He waited for Jon to finish, and then made Jon’s uneven and over-leafy drawing into a blue stencil too.

“Kip, you can go first.”

“No, I should go first,” Jon looked pissed, “I’m the senior apprentice.” He grinned at Kip, and Kip knew if the lanky young man got his way, he was going to cause Kip a lot of pain.

“Alright then, go set up at my station,” AJ didn’t look as happy as he should have been.

“AJ?” Kip liked and respected his boss, but he was also a tiny bit terrified of him. “I can’t.”

AJ frowned, and from across the studio, Matti looked up from watching Jon set up, and he too set his brows low in puzzlement.

“You’ve already tattooed Matti, why can’t you ink Jon too?”

“No it’s not that,” Kip hated how whiny he sounded. “I can’t get a tattoo.”

“You think I’m not good enough for you?” Jon glowered at him. The noise of the air-con was not enough to hide what Kip had said in the quiet shop. “You uppity little prick! Just ‘cause you’re a good drawer and Matti had a stroke and let you ink him, you think you’re special.”

“Shut up Jon,” Matti rumbled.

“He shouldn’t even be going near a machine! Boy thinks he’s God’s gift to tattooing. Fuck you!” This last epithet was directed at Kip. “You’re not some special little snowflake, you pansy ass shit. You should be damn grateful someone at this shop is willing to tattoo you.”

AJ’s hand on his shoulder was hot and firm, and without a word, he left Matti to deal with Jon, and steered Kip outside. Sitting on the steps in the blistering sun, Kip hung his head, expecting to be yelled at. When the words didn’t come, he looked up.

“Sometimes I wonder if that boy has the patience to be a tattoo artist someday,” he sighed, and sat next to Kip. “But we gotta talk about what’s going on with you. I’ve never heard of an apprentice without tattoos, but I took you on ‘cause you seemed nice and fastidious and damn boy, you can draw. You don’t want Jon to do your first tattoo?”

“No,” Kip didn’t need time to think about it. “But that’s not the reason. I can’t get a tattoo from you either; even though I think you’re amazing,” he added quickly, “I’m promised to someone else.”

“What, like an arranged marriage?” AJ looked genuinely confused.

“Something like that?” Kip exhaled slowly. “I’m not supposed to tell people really. My skin is sort of reserved, I’m going to be a competition piece.”

“Jesus...” AJ was silent while he thought through everything Kip had said. “So those holiday dates you booked off?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How many hours?”

“Two hundred in all, but the last thirty have to be done at the convention.”

“Bloody hell,” AJ looked impressed. “Look, if you want, I won’t say anything to the guys, but you’ve gotta be prepared for the fact Jon is going to hate you, and probably try to make your life shitty from here on out.”

“Yes boss. Thank you sir.”

“C’mon then,” AJ stood up and offered a giant hand to Kip, “It’s too fucking hot to be outside.”

Inside Jon was still sitting in AJ’s tattooing chair, with black and red inks laid out on the table with shading and liner machines all set up and plastic sleeved, waiting for a living canvas. Jon wore black latex gloves, and drummed his fingers on his knees.

“Has he come down off his high horse then?”

Matti looked like he desperately wanted to smack Jon upside the head.

“Kip, give him the stencil for his design.” Jon looked confused at AJ’s words. “You’ll do it on yourself. Pick a leg.”

“But-?”

“Do as the man says Jon,” Matti said gruffly. “And your placement better be perfect.”

“Well who’s he going to tattoo? Doesn’t he have to do himself?” Jon swiped the stencil he’d made from Kip’s drawing to the floor.

“You let me worry about that,” AJ replied. “Maybe he won’t tattoo today. After all, he hasn’t been here as long as you.”

Kip was almost grateful for the words, even though it sounded a little bit like a slight, and he was about to slink away when Shay, who had been hanging out at the back of the shop, wafted over in her delicate high heels, scooped up his drawing and smiled at him. She might have been a girl, but Shay’s smile was a thousand watt bulb, and Kip realised how she so often got clients who let her do pretty much whatever she wanted.

“He can do me,” her voice dripped with intonation. “C’mon little boy.” Kip could only stare at her blankly as she took his hand, and led him away behind her screen. “You draw very well Kip, and you did a great job with Matti’s stars. I trust you.” Shay flicked her hair in a motion which would have been obvious across the room and giggled. “Get set up.”

Kip laid out the pots and set up the machines. He’d set up the station for Shay enough times to do it almost automatically. When Shay began rolling up her skirt, he blanched.

“You do know I’m gay, don’t you?”

Shay clucked her tongue.

“Of course sweetie, I’m not blind.” Shay glanced through the pierced wood of the screen, “That was all just for the boys. Think how mad-jealous Jon is going to be.”

Kip didn’t bother mentioning he could do without Jon being mad-jealous of him, even more than he already was, but finished laying out the inks, pulled on some gloves, and picked up the stencil transfer lotion.

“Put it right here,” Shay indicated a space on the side of her upper thigh. She had other traditional tattoos, and Kip spent a while staring at her leg from a few angles before he decided exactly where to put it.

He shaved the area, even though there wasn’t a hair in sight, and rubbed the transfer lotion onto Shay’s skin. Touching Shay did nothing for him, and Kip was distinctly happy Matti or AJ hadn’t volunteered, because there was nothing like being scrutinized by your boss with a hard on in your pants. Just as he was dipping the liner into the jet black ink, AJ turned up to watch him. Kip nodded to himself, exhaled, and drew out his first line, using the extent of his fingers and pivot of his hand to pull a nice clean curve. He lifted off, dipped the needle in the ink once more, and went back in.

After that, he didn’t need to think, just followed his stencil until the outline was done, transferred to the shader, and began adding black gradients in all the right places. Just like when he practised, Kip found he didn’t need to think, his brain went awfully quiet and his breathing came automatically with each dip and swipe as the tattoo took shape. As he began to add colour, he became aware, as if through a fog, he was being discussed.

“That’s a damn fine professional job he’s doing there.”

“Slowly,” AJ countered.

“For a second tattoo? Slowly is the least of my concerns. He’s confident, puts the ink in just where it needs to be, no hesitation. And we all know Shay can sit like a superstar, but he’s not hammering her skin either. Seriously AJ, the boy’s got a gift.”

“Well then what are we going to teach him?”

“Everything? He could start tattooing clients tomorrow. Look at him work.”

There was a long pause.

“Doesn’t talk much though, does he?”

Kip’s hand stopped tattooing and laid down the machine, and only then did he realise he’d finished the tattoo. He wiped it down, and checked to make sure his automaton-brain hadn’t missed anything, then cleaned the area up fully and massaged lotion into the skin.

“All done.”

Shay sat up and admired her new tattoo in the long mirror, flashing her naked tanned thigh with a private smile.

“Well ain’t that a beaut? Thanks Kip.” She kissed his cheek, and swished up to the front of the shop to show Matti.

Before Kip could say anything, he looked up, and met Jon’s eyes with more or less a clang. The other man hated him, that much was overwhelmingly obvious. Then AJ stepped in between them as though the air wasn’t made of tension as strong as steel, and sat on the padded bench Shay had just vacated.

“Matti’s right. That was some beautiful work.”

“Thank you, boss.”

“We’re having a guest artist coming in next week. I want you to stick with him and learn everything you can.” AJ stood up, “And when I say ‘stick with him’, I mean it. Set up for him and draw when he asks, but otherwise don’t do any of the stuff you usually do.”

“But-?” Kip frowned.

“Don’t worry about it, it’ll get done.”

Kip smiled proudly as AJ walked away, but he knew Jon was not going to be pleased. There was no way he wasn’t going to take Kip’s new status as anything other than a personal slight, and Kip knew Jon would have to go back to doing a lot of the jobs he hadn’t bothered with once Kip had shown up. It was in every way conceivable, a demotion.

*

“Oom! Uncle!” Kip’s joy gave him wings, and he flew across the driveway at his favourite family member. Dirk Jeroen’s flight hadn’t got in until late, so he’d stayed at a hotel, and hadn’t called Kip until he’d been no more than twenty minutes from his front door. Kip wrapped his arms around his uncle and inhaled his scent and shirt. “I missed you.”

“It’s not been that long little Kip,” his uncle’s lilting voice always made him smile, “but it’s always good to see you again. Are you sure you’ve stopped growing?”

“Uncle...” Kip rolled his eyes at his uncle’s joke. Kip hadn’t got any taller since he left high school, but Dirk Jeroen always liked to tease him, softly and without a hint of nastiness, about his meagre height. Kip was the shortest person in his family, and a lot of the time he hated being short. People thought it meant he was little, weak, in need of protection, but Kip worked hard to make sure he didn’t need defending from anyone.

“So, do you want to see the picture I brought for you?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” For about thirty seconds, the only difference between Kip and an overexcited spaniel was the height and lack of fur.

Kip gaped at the sketch his uncle unrolled on his kitchen table. His uncle always drew beautifully, always, but there was something about knowing the images he was seeing were going to come alive adorning his skin that made shivers of strange pleasure prickle up the back of his skull. If nothing else, Kip was going to be colourful.

The back of the suit showed a reclining figure of a Pharaoh, softly androgynous and otherworldly beautiful with his dark eye liner and strong blue and gold headdress. Just by looking, Kip knew his uncle would render the face in super photo realistic detail, and his skin would become the Pharaohs skin tone too. The flat colours of the gold and blue were starkly contrasting with their thick black outlines, as though the image had some aspect of a stained glass window, as well as a traditional Egyptian frieze. Somehow Dirk Jeroen had managed to render the Pharaoh, his companion scribe-boy and the fronds of the palm fan in a flowing art nouveau style without compromising their incredible beauty. Kip ran his fingers over the images, not quite touching the outlines of bands of hieroglyphs and tiny detailed funeral processions that would run down one of his thighs, then pausing over the beautifully detailed profiles of Anubis and Horus who would decorate his chest above an image of Hathor as the gold cow holding the red disc of the sun between her horns as she stood at the bank of a reed filled river which would flow, along with several crocodiles, down Kip’s other thigh and swirl over his hip.

“We’ll end it here,” his uncle touched Kip’s arm just above the elbow, “And here,” a touch above the knee, “And you’ll be able to wear shorts and button-down shirt and no one will know.”

“It’s beautiful,” Kip could barely form the words. He stared again at the Pharaoh, wondering how it was Dirk Jeroen could have imagined so gorgeous a face. Part of his mind wished fervently Dirk had used a real model, and that the boy might magically appear to him. “Thank you.”

“I don’t want it to look like other bodysuits,” Dirk Jeroen explained, “I hate some of those hard lines you get which seem to divide the body.” On the tablet computer, he showed Kip a few pictures of excellent bodysuits, but in a gesture, Kip understood what his uncle meant. A man with a traditional Japanese suit looked almost like he was wearing the pattern as cloth, and the stark contrast where the tattoo ended at the cleft of his rear and under his armpits was jarring. “But the kind of fade I was thinking of is going to be painful.”

“I’mma have to wax...everywhere,” Kip chewed his bottom lip, “Will it help you win?”

“Armpits; yes. No one but you and me will see your crotch – it’s not judged naked.” Dirk gave his nephew a small smile. Kip wondered if it was strange for his uncle to have these conversations with him, considering for many years Kip had been a skinny little kid running around in the garden. His uncle had met him when he was only a few months old. Kip’s thought ceased when his uncle spoke again. “Unless of course, there _is_ someone who is going to see you naked?”

“Ome Dirk...” Kip sighed, “No, there is no one.”

“Are we sad about this?” Dirk Jeroen frowned at him.

“Only a little. Don’t worry uncle, I’ll find someone one day.”

“Well, make sure you open your eyes to look. Come now, I need to measure and trace you so we can get all the stencils ready and arranged to start tomorrow. Fifty hours on your back, and I thought we might save one arm and part of your upper chest for the convention?”

“Sounds good. When will we need to work on,” Kip glanced down at his body as he peeled out of his shirt, “the rest of me?”

“When you come to the studio next month. Much more privacy.”

“Where are we going to do the work over here?” Kip looked around his open-plan kitchen and living room. “Not here?”

His uncle cuffed him gently around the back of the head, and ruffled his hair.

“No mijn Neef. We shall be going to my friend Maren’s shop, they have made space for us and we will not need to explain to anyone what we are doing.” Dirk began to lay out the stencils over the table so he could measure them against Kip’s skin. Some would almost certainly need to have their sizes changed. “Now stand still so I can measure you up.”

“Yes Oom.”

Kip smiled to himself, counting the twenty or so individual pieces of his tattoo. He knew he was going to have to learn to be very still and very patient, and very resistant to pain, but Kip knew he wanted his uncle to think him a good canvas far more than he wanted anything else, and as Dirk Jeroen began to draw down his spine with a thick marker, Kip closed his eyes, and simply imagined the soft hum of the tattoo machine.

*

Kip groaned as he woke, rolled over, then sat bolt upright with a strangled yelp of pain. His back was hot, he was stiff, he ached everywhere, and despite having slept for nearly twelve hours, he was already exhausted. On the other hand, he hadn’t been to work in a week, and Kip knew his days of lying around on his front, head pillowed on his arms,  were over. He got up stiffly and went to have a very tender shower.

Dirk had been very pleased with how well he’d sat, and one of the other artists at the shop had commented that Kip had been steady as an actual canvas under a brush as he’d been worked on. All of them had been surprised, including Kip himself, of how well he’d coped with the pain, considering he’d never been tattooed before. But that had been then, and now the pain made Kip want to take a lot of meds, and go lay back down in a dark room. Instead, he rubbed cocoa butter across his entire back – Dirk Jeroen had left him with an enormous supply to soothe and heal his ink filled wounds – and pulled on a soft plaid shirt, wincing with every movement. By the time Kip, along with his art supplies, and seven sheets of technically exacting flash drawings to make up for his time away, got to the studio, he was able to move and walk as though he hadn’t spent fifty hours over the last week having his skin pummelled.

“Hey Kip!” Matti’s smile was well worth getting up for. “God it’s good to see you back kiddo. You have a nice week off?”

“Yes thanks,” Kip hated to lie to the man he was coming to think of as his friend, “what about you?” Kip saw the bandage around Matti’s arm where the stars he had tattooed had been. “You got new ink!”

“Yeah, I went to go see my buddy Chris one evening. Funny thing really, I was sure I saw you leaving the shop with some tall heavily tattooed dude.”

Kip’s mind swam with worry. He hadn’t known anyone at Maren’s shop had been overly friendly with the artists he worked for. But then, he also hadn’t mentioned to anyone there what he did, or wanted to do for a living, and at no point had anyone asked his name. Dirk had been promised privacy, and they had been set up with a few screens near the back of the shop and left to get on with things themselves.

“Never mind, eh? What you do with your own time is your business.” Matti smiled easily, and Kip knew the man wouldn’t press him for information. “You remember how to set me up? Big sleeve piece to work on today.”

By the time he finished speaking, Kip was already wiping down the work space. Somehow he doubted in his week ‘off’ that Jon had deigned to clean anything very well.

The day started out as it normally did, and by the time all the artists were in, Kip had set everyone up, re-filled the gloves at each station, written up a supplies list to be ordered, sorted out the mess left on top of the light box, replaced the toner in the printer, and was washing the front windows when Jon arrived and slapped him on the back.

“Ah!” Kip stepped away from him quickly, his skin throbbing in pain at the contact. He glared at Jon, because it was easier to control his reaction by not talking at all.

“And I was gonna say it was nice to have you back,” Jon sneered at him, “at least there’s someone else around to do all the grunt work now, and I can get back to my art.”

Jon stepped away from him, and Kip exhaled softly. He couldn’t have said exactly what made him vocalise the thought, when he’d kept his mouth shut so many times before, but he was sick of Jon, and it rankled that the other man still thought he was somehow superior to Kip, even though AJ had made it painstakingly obvious it was not so.

“You need it.”

Jon froze in the act of turning away.

“What did you say to me?”

“Nothing.” Kip could have kicked himself, but returned to washing the windows. The next moment, Jon was at his side, his fingers gripping Kip’s shoulder and squeezing hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. He couldn’t have known quite how much pain he was inflicting, but his voice was too close to Kip’s skin, and the boy recoiled from him.

“You little shit. I’ll make your every moment here a waking nightmare if you cross me again. Fuck off.”

Kip had never been so grateful for the door to open and admit a pair of very pretty young women. It was enough of a distraction, and he tore himself away from Jon, left his window cleaning supplies, and went to hide himself way at the back of the shop while Jon joined Matti and AJ at the desk, chatting to the girls, flirting harmlessly.

Shay arched a perfect eyebrow at him.

“Don’t let him get under your skin Kip.”

“Huh?”

“That young man has a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas, and AJ ain’t managed to cure him of it yet. Don’t let him get to you. You’re better than that.” She smiled warmly, “I have a really cool guy coming in later for a full colour piece with lots of flowers. I’ll let you sit in, and if you’re real lucky and sweet, I’ll even let you do a bit of shading.”

“Won’t AJ be pissed?”

“Nope, he told us yesterday we could have you guys help out whenever we wanted. You just can’t do tattoos by yourself without his direct say so.”

“Really?” Kip could hardly believe his ears. “That’s awesome.”

“Yeah it is. Now come sit with me, and I’ll talk you through my machines a bit and you can practice installing needles.”

Kip grinned excitedly. It was enough to make him forget, until he went to scratch an itch, about how much pain he was in, or the vicious tone in Jon’s voice, because he sat at Shay’s elbow, listened to every word she said, and got to shade a calla lily in his first ever commercial tattoo. Afterwards, Shay kissed his cheek and sauntered away. Kip didn’t need to strain his ears to listen to her singing his praises.

*

“OK, where do you want me?” Kip asked the question with some trepidation.

His uncle had shut the shop to walk ins, left his other two artists and the studio manager downstairs with strict instructions no one was to come upstairs no matter what, and shut the door. There were several screens in the way, so even accidents could be avoided, but Kip was still nervous about what was to come. He finished folding his clothes and gave thanks Dirk J e roen had turned up the heating in his studio.

“Just lay down and get comfy mijn ventje and don’t worry.” His uncle sounded normal, as though he wasn’t looking at his nephew butt naked in his tattoo studio. “You’ve been taking good care of yourself. Your back is healing nicely.”

“Thanks uncle.”

“Don’t worry. Today we will do the embarrassing bit, and then tomorrow you can have clothes again. Just not many.”

“Haha.” Kip pillowed his head on his arms, and tried not to think too closely about the sensations his body was sending him.

Getting ready for the trip had been a different sort of fun than he was used to. Kip had always imagined if he ever went in for the getting everything waxed, it would have been so someone special could benefit from it. Having spent fifty hours with his uncle shredding his skin to apply ink, and sitting on the side of the bath apply hot wax onto some very sensitive areas of his body, Kip knew exactly which sensation he preferred. Dirk drew lines on his lower back, measuring the distance between the completed part of the tattoo and the area he was about to work on, just to be sure the images would fit, then began to apply stencils to Kip’s ass. The smoothing of the stencil over his flesh wasn’t nearly as interesting as being drawn on in marker, and Kip hoped his uncle would never know about the reaction Kip’s body was having, completely independent of his brain.

“So, tell me little Kip. What has happened in your life since I last came to the States?”

“Nothing much. Just work and applying vast quantities of cocoa butter to my skin. I swear we’re keeping that company in business.”

“We should buy shares,” his uncle quipped.

“Dad said the same thing when I told him,” Kip grinned. “I didn’t show them the tattoo though. I know it has to be a surprise.”

“Come on Kip, I know you have things to tell me. I know I saw a fat portfolio in all that stuff you brought. How is your apprenticeship going?”

Kip sighed with a smile. His uncle was getting his machines ready, and soon, Kip was going to be in pain in some very private places. It would be better to keep his mind off the inevitable.

“Really really good Oom.”

Things at the studio had gone from strength to strength after he’d helped Shay out on her floral tattoo. He still set up for the guys, often before he was even asked, but Matti had got him to do some outlining on a new school skull the following day, and then taken Kip to do a spot of people sketching on main street, leaving Jon to clear up after them. He’d polished all the brass in the shop, the door hinges, letterbox, the studs in the mirror frames, and his reward had been to sketch a bunch of steampunk bits which AJ had cut out and collaged into a finished composition to use on the client. Kip had watched in silent wonder as the master had inked his design into someone’s skin as though he did it all the time.

His drawings were getting better too, and Kip found himself branching out into other styles and subjects. He spent an evening in a parking lot popular with gear-heads, sketching cars and bikes, getting down whatever details he could as they went flashing past. The following day he’d turned in a whole flash sheet of logos, each rendered in three beautiful dimensions, and AJ had ruffled his hair and smiled. He helped both Shay and Matti on other tattoos, doing line work and shading, and tried to ignore Jon.

Jon was about the only thing in his life which grated. Jon with his sneers and snide remarks, glaring at Kip whenever one of the artists asked him to do something cool, muttering under his breath whenever the artists were far enough away not to notice. And Kip was sure, somehow, that Jon suspected him of something. He was always trying to grab his clothes, or slap him on the back, tried once to pull up his shirt – trying to make a point about tattoo placement on ribs apparently – and Kip was becoming increasingly wary of turning his back on the other apprentice. He’d never been big on being touched by people, but he hadn’t minded Dirk Jeroen’s hands smoothing and wiping his intimate skin, following the hot prickling pain left by the many needles of the shading machine.

“You’re not going to want to sit down for a while.” Dirk leant back on his elbows as Kip finished settling his sweats over his hips. He’d been told in a tone which brooked no argument, that jeans would not be a good idea having been worked over so thoroughly. “You’re not going to look?”

“I don’t need to,” Kip grinned, “I know it’ll be awesome. Is it terrible to want a surprise?”

“No mijn Neef. By the end of this week, we’ll have finished your whole back and hips. It’s exciting no?”

“Nearly half way through...” Kip sighed wistfully, then ran his hand down his still blank chest. He bit his lip, thinking of the beautiful colours and patterns which would, soon, adorn his skin forever.

“Will you miss it?” Dirk Jeroen packed his machines away in his station and began to wipe down the bench Kip had lain on. Kip went to help, it was automatic, but his uncle brushed him away.

“I don’t know.” Kip looked down at his body. “It’s not like anything very interesting has ever happened to it.”

Kip glanced in the mirror at his uncle’s expression, and gave him a small smile.

“Yes, yes; I know. I need to go out and find happiness.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to – dad’s the same. I think you’re convinced all I ever do is sit alone in my apartment drawing by myself.”

“And what have you been doing with your evenings lately?” Dirk arched an eyebrow.

“Sitting alone in my apartment drawing,” Kip admitted. “Don’t look at me like that… I want to be a good tattoo artist. It’s hard to concentrate on other stuff right now.”

“You cannot live just for work little Kip. Promise me after dinner you will go out into the city and have fun?”

“Oom Dirk...” Kip pleaded. “You know my Dutch sucks.”

“And yet, I’m sure you’ve told me before that flirting is all about body language...”

Kip gaped at his uncle. He shouldn’t have been surprised; his father had always maintained their European family had no boundaries at all.

*

“Sorry,” Kip tried to duck out of the way of the young man who was coming backwards out of the door as he’d tried to go in.

“Pardon, sorry, sorry,” the other guy sounded flustered, like he was in a hurry, and then he turned to face Kip. His smile was broad and instantaneous. “Hallo, hebben wij elkaar eerder ontmoet?”

Kip understood what he’d said, roughly, but he couldn’t bring himself to form an answer, because he was still staring, rather rudely, at the young man with a beautiful smile and shining eyes. He hadn’t missed in the three seconds they’d been in the same place that the Dutch man had a fully tattooed Polynesian tribal sleeve, a shirt tight enough to show off all his muscles, and the sort of effortless looking hair with a thick ruffled fringe Kip wished he could pull off.

“Hi...” Kip could have kicked himself, it was such a poor opening line.

“American?” The Dutch boy made it sound like an exotic title.

“Yes. Texan.”

He laughed, and laid a hand on Kip’s shoulder.

“You don’t look much like a cowboy?” his new friend’s smile became warmer. “Can I buy you a drink somewhere, American?”

“Yes.” Kip knew his uncle would be proud of him. He took a step back towards the bar, but his new friend stopped him.

“Maybe not here.”

“Did you just get thrown out?” Kip queried with a grin.

“Kinda.” The Dutch boy said something fast and complicated in his native tongue. “Never mind. I know a better place.”

Kip fell into step beside his new friend easily enough. The Dutch boy was taller than him, which wasn’t unusual, but Kip was surprised to find his own shoulders were a touch broader, and he grinned to himself because the other young man hadn’t yet let go of him.

“So Texan-American, you got a name?”

“Kip. You?”

“Niels. So what are you doing in Alkmaar?”

“Visiting family. My uncle lives here.” Kip glanced at Niels as the Dutch boy held the door of the bar open for him. “He’s a tattoo artist.”

“Oh yeah?” Niels looked him over, but Kip knew no one could tell what he had on under his clothes. “I like a bit of ink myself.”

“No kidding?” Kip felt brave, so he reached out and ran a finger along one spur of Niels’s inked sleeve. “That’s lovely. Was it done here?”

“Ja. The Alkmaar Tattoo Centre.” Kip gaped at him. “Gaat het?”

“That’s my uncle’s shop.” He pulled his attention away as the barman asked him what he wanted. “Wat hij heeft, bedankt.”

“Twee bier graag,” Niels didn’t even look at the man who served them, just remained staring at Kip. “Your uncle is Dirk Jeroen Meijer? He’s gewelding! The best!”

“Thanks, I’ll tell him you said so.”

“I would love to be tattooed by him.” Niels sounded wistful as he took their beers, handed one to Kip, and lead him away from the bar. “My sleeve was done by Amica Jenn, and she’s great. But Dirk Jeroen Meijer… do you know if he’s entering any competitions this year?”

“Yes.” Kip wished, for the first time, he was able to spill all his secrets. There wasn’t going to be anyone to gush over his bodysuit design with him for months to come. Even though he liked and respected AJ, Matti, and Shay, Kip hadn’t felt a rush to talk like he did then, not in many many months. “International Tattoo Bodysuit Competition is being held at the Star of Texas Tattoo Convention in Austin in the fall.”

“That’s where you’re from?”

“Ja.”

“So it’s gonna be awesome having your Oom there in your home town, and you get to see his competition work! Has he shown you already?”

Kip didn’t say anything, because he didn’t want to lie outright to Niels, but he couldn’t tell him the truth either.

“He has! Geluksvogel! Tell me everything!”

“Het is een geheim! You know I can’t.” Kip rolled his eyes, but grinned as he sipped his beer. “It’s really beautiful.” He paused, wondering if he could have gotten extremely lucky in running into Niels. “Maybe you’ll have to come over to the convention to see.”

“Will you be there?”

“Ja.”

“Sounds good.” Niels was standing very close to him, and Kip shivered, even though he was warm. “I might just do that.” The clink of glasses and scrape of chairs broke the warm, intimate moment between them, and Kip stepped back, blinking. “Come sit with me Kip? I don’t know anything about you. How long are you here for?”

“A week. But I’ll be back at the end of next month for a fortnight.” Kip smiled, and let Niels pull him down.

Kip knew lots of things were painful, but just then he understood why his aunt had let him eat dinner standing up. Sitting on a fresh tattoo hurt like hell, but Niels’s smile made it all worthwhile.

*

“So how was visiting your family?” Shay looked up from her tattoo supply catalogue at Kip.

“It was awesome, thanks.” Kip finished wiping down the last of Shay’s ink bottles, then began to line them up in colour and shade order. “The food over there is always amazing, and it’s nice to walk along the canals in the evening. Something about all the water makes the light look really cool.”

“Show me.” Shay demanded. Kip stared at her, his brain firing six empty cylinders, trying to twist what she’d said until it made sense. There was no way she could know why he’d really gone over there, Kip had been so incredibly careful. “C’mon, we all know you don’t go anywhere without a sketchbook. I’m assuming you drew while you were there?”

“Oh, yeah.” Kip smiled, mostly to himself, and found his gaze sliding out of focus as he remembered Niels’s smile in his inner vision.

“Let’s see,” Shay waited for him to respond, then simply wheeled her work chair over to the main desk, and filched Kip’s sketchbook from the top of his bag. She began flicking through the pages with her long slim fingers before Kip could even react. “Ohhh… sometimes I forget you went to art school. Mmm, I love these colours. Matti, AJ, look what Kip’s been up to.”

Kip knew he’d lost possession of his art. He didn’t mind, during his years of art school he’d grown used to people looking at and taking over his work. In the early weeks, they’d been encouraged to explain all they’d done, but Kip had always found it better to sit back and let his work speak for itself.

“ _Your drawings are beautiful.” Niels had glanced up at him with sparkling eyes. “How come you didn’t say you were a tattoo artist?”_

“ _I’m not,” Kip had blushed, knowing it wasn’t nearly dark enough in the club to cover his reaction. “I’m only an apprentice.”_

“ _But you’ll be tattooing soon,” Niels hadn’t asked a question, “You’re too good not to Kip.”_

“ _Bedankt,” Kip smiled at his new friend._

_Niels had turned a page in the sketchbook and used the movement to bridge the gap between them and take Kip’s hand. Neither of them had said anything, but after a moment Niels began to draw tiny circles with the pad of one thumb in Kip’s palm, and Kip had felt his cheeks colour quickly._

“Who’s the boy?” Matti glanced up from Kip’s sketchbook with a sly sort of grin. “You been holding out on us Kip? There’s someone special in your life you’ve never mentioned before?”

“No.”

“He’s gotta be someone. That’s a damn good portrait.”

Kip wondered what Niels would have said if he’d heard the conversation. He had only known the Dutch boy for a week, but they had spent part of every day together, and Niels had called him twice, and they’d emailed back and forth, in the four days since Kip had come home. To say he wasn’t anyone special would be lying, and Kip hated to lie; he wasn’t any good at it.

“Niels. We have a lot in common.”

“Ohh, present tense,” Matti’s tone gave away how much he was enjoying his line of gentle teasing, “so will we be seeing this Niels any time soon?”

“He lives in Alkmaar,” Kip chewed his bottom lip, “but maybe.”

He’d enjoyed drawing Niels, and the young man had sat for his portrait without complaint, perched on the low balustrade over the canal, looking all soft and hard in the golden evening light of their second date. Kip knew he’d enhanced Niels’s strong shoulders with the graphic bold line he’d used, but he’d tried to keep his face just as it had been, his lips brought up into a little half smile. Kip had spent the whole time he was drawing wondering what Niels’s lips had felt like. He hadn’t had to wait long.

“ _Helemaal klaar? How do I look?”_

“ _Wonderful,” Kip had spoken before he’d thought through the implications, but Niels’s smile had been broad and full of promise._

“ _Can I see?”_

_Kip handed over the sketchbook wordlessly, and stared at Niels as though he’d not spent half an hour doing just that. When Niels had asked to see him again, Kip had felt his heart shudder with desire, and agreed instantly. Even lying on his side in the studio all day, it had been easy to forget about the pain, and difficult not to think of things which would cause him to have an embarrassing reaction in front of his uncle. When Kip had shown up, trying not to limp, Niels had smiled like the sun shone out of his side, and asked him what he had in the bag._

“ _Art stuff.”_

“ _You been drawing?”_

“ _Ja.” Kip had fingered the edge of his sketchbook, and felt suddenly bold. “Can I draw you?”_

_Niels’s blush had told Kip everything he’d hoped was true. Now Niels took his hand again, and Kip found himself sat on the low wall next to his friend, their bent knees touching, the sketch lying between them, and Kip couldn’t think of a single thing other than how awesome it would be to kiss him._

_Niels obviously had the same thought._

_Niels had leaned in, hand resting on Kip’s knee, and kissed him. Kip’s world had become small, and he’d forgotten the lingering pain of his new tattoo, forgotten about the sunset, the breeze and the scent of the canal, and the people passing them by. Forgotten everything in fact, but the sensation of Niels’s lips on his, and the look in the Dutch man’s eyes as he’d drawn back with a smile. Kip had leaned in after him without a conscious thought._

“ _Je bent mooi... Does anyone ever tell you that? That you’re beautiful?”_

“ _No.”_

“ _You are.”_

“ _Oh.”_

“ _I want to kiss you again.” Niels practically purred as he said it, and Kip felt his body shiver. “Please.”_

_Kip had closed the space between them, his lips inches away from Niels, and watched the Dutch boy blush in a very attractive manner. A small and reasonably sensible part of his brain had tried to tell him there couldn’t possibly be anything to gain by allowing his heart to get pummelled when it inevitably wouldn’t work out over time and distance. It didn’t win._

“ _Ja.”_

“We’d better not lose you over there permanently,” AJ nodded at the sketches, and handed the book back to Kip. “I’m going to need you to help out at the shop.”

Kip frowned at his boss. Something in AJ’s tone made him wonder, because it hadn’t sounded like he was talking about cleaning down and setting up.

“AJ?” Kip glanced over at Matti, and the blue haired man was grinning broadly.

“You can start doing walk ins. One of us has got to sign off on your artwork though.”

“Yes sir, thank you!” Kip beamed, unable to control his smile. “Thank you!”

“You know this means you’re going to have to buy some kit?” Shay rubbed his shoulder softly, “C’mon Kip, I’ll help you pick out some supplies.”

“No fuckin’ way.”

Kip turned, hoping his ears had somehow lied to him, and Jon wasn’t standing directly behind him, fuming visibly.

“You cannot let him start tattooing actual clients before me! That’s so unfair. He’s only been here six months!”

“And yet he can draw so much better than you,” Matti rumbled.

“You’ll get your chance Jon. Knuckle down and work hard, you’ll get there.”

Jon fixed his anger on Kip, and for a moment Kip was terrified Jon would try and beat him into a pulp.

“He is my subordinate! How can I sit back and let him take my place?” he wailed.

“Enough!” AJ’s voice was level and low, but he still snapped. “You are both apprentices of this shop. Neither is lower than the other. I don’t want to hear another word about it.” He turned to Jon, a dark anger in his eyes Kip knew he never wanted to have directed at him. “Is that clear?”

Jon grumbled something indistinct, but nodded.

Kip spent the rest of his morning looking over different inks, machines, and storage equipment with Shay, feeling a little bit guilty he wasn’t going to need to take her advice just yet, but making notes on future machines he wanted to buy. No self-respecting artist would have anything less than six after all. About lunch time, Kip was busy setting up Matti’s station whilst Matti made his stencil and prepared his client, and Jon was supposed to be picking up the lunch. The other apprentice passed by Kip far too closely, and snarled at him before he stalked off.

“Fuckin’ brown-nosed homo.”

Kip let the comment slide, and didn’t mention anything to the artists when Jon came back without any lunch for him.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kip and Jon clash, and the tattoo convention finally comes to town.

Kip was sitting at the main desk, drawing when the bell over the door chimed gently, and he looked up and smiled at the girl who stood next to the counter.

“Hello.”

“Hey,” she glanced around the studio at the artists who were busy working and Kip saw her eyes slide to the pages of flash he had spread out in front of him. “I want to get a tattoo.”

“Cool,” it was the standard reply, but Kip could already see the woman had another tattoo on her shoulder. She turned automatically to show it off, and Kip took in the lovely neo-traditional candy skull. “Very nice. What is it you want?”

“Some roses, and a snake. I want to balance out the other shoulder.”

“Full colour?” Kip knew it would be. “I’ll be right back. Why don’t you take a seat?” As the woman turned away, Kip practically ran over to AJ’s station and skidded to a halt. “AJ?”

“I heard. Sounds fun, and you draw a mean rose. Go on.” He didn’t even look up, but Kip could hear the smile in his voice.

“Thanks AJ!”

Kip jogged back to the drawing table and rifled through his flash sheets, looking for one which featured a whole bunch of snakes he’d worked on the previous week. He bit back a snarl when he saw Jon take it and begin walking over to the girl.

“Hey!”

Jon turned to him with a sneer.

“Give that back.”

“Ha! You ain’t getting a tattoo done before me.” Jon looked down at him, and Kip wished he wasn’t so short. “Just because you’re sucking up to AJ to get ahead doesn’t mean I’m gonna.”

“So you’ll steal my artwork and my client instead. Fuck you Jon.” Kip hissed, keeping his voice low. Regardless of how much he wanted to, he was not going to make a scene in the shop in front of clients and damage the studio’s reputation.

“Boys?” Shay wafted over to them and wrapped her arm around Jon’s shoulder. “Jon, I need you to come help me with some shading. Leave Kip to his client.”

Jon smirked, and as Kip reached for his flash sheet, he watched the other man tear it to pieces as he walked away. Kip took his supplies and went back over to his client.

“So, what kind of snake are we talking about?”

“A banded corn snake. With the orange, red, and black? I don’t want it to look scary though.”

“A feminine snake and roses? I like it. Give me twenty minutes to draw it up? You can wait here, would you like a drink?”

“Water?”

Just as Kip was about to go and get her a drink, he heard Matti say;

“Jon, go fetch water for Kip’s client.”

Jon grumbled something, but Kip was much too engrossed in his drawing to care. By the time he finished, he became aware of the fact that AJ was standing at his shoulder.

“AJ?”

“Beautiful. I’ve finished up. You can use my station if you want. You have your machines?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll set up for you.” 

Kip stared at his boss, slack jawed.

“Ummm… seven colour pots please.” He wandered back to the sofa, where his young woman was flicking through her phone, concentrating hard. “Miss?”

“Colette.”

“Kip Meijer.” Kip held out the sketch with a smile. “So you all set?”

“That’s awesome!” Colette was on her feet in an instant, a wide honest smile spreading across her features. “It’s totally perfect. Thank you!”

“Thank me afterwards,” Kip quipped. “I’ll go make a stencil, if you go and take a seat over there, I’ll be right with you.”

With extreme care, Kip put his drawing through the copy machine and came out with a blue stencil. He shaved Colette’s bare shoulder, rubbed her with transfer lotion, and stilled his breathing as he positioned the stencil to complement the shape of her body and her other tattoo. While she jumped up to check the position, Kip took his ink bottles, and filled up the pots AJ had lain out for him. And then it was like any other tattoo, Kip set his needles just so, braced his wrist against his client’s skin, and used the long reach of his fingers to lay down a super smooth consistent outline around his tattoo. He didn’t think of much at all, spent what appeared to be a long time reliving the feel of Niels’s lips on his own, then reached for his shading machine as he wiped Colette’s shoulder once again. 

“ _This is my favourite place in the whole of Alkmaar,” Niels had reached for his hand once more, and Kip hand found the sensation of the Dutch boy’s fingers in his jeans pocket, twined with his own, deeply erotic. “Have you been before?”_

_Kip had stared up at the dizzying heights of the Grote Sint Laurenskerk. His uncle had brought him to see_ _his favourite sight in this_ _corner of the world, hear the organ, and marvel at the light streaming through the stained glass windows and onto classical images from the bible the very first time his father had brought him to visit. The smell of incense and hot wax combined with the glint of gold gilt always made him feel small and insignificant._

“ _Not since I was little.”_

“ _Kom op!”_

_Niels’s laugh had already proved to be more than a little infectious, and feeling like a child sneaking off, Kip had kept hold of his hand and followed his friend into the_ _church_ _. They skidded past tourists, bypassed the new contemporary gallery spaces, and stared with wonder at the long pipes of the organ ascending to the ceiling. Kip hadn’t let go of Niels until he’d stood under a geometric piece of domed ceiling and spun in circles until he was dizzy. It had been easy to forget the ache of his tattoos when Niels had caught around his ribs, lifted him off his feet and kissed him like they were in a movie._

_Kip had never felt so free in his life, woven his fingers into Niels’s super soft hair and hung on to him tight as they’d kissed some more. The Dutch boy was strong, held onto Kip as though he weighed nothing at all, and Kip had felt nothing but the hammering of his heart and the smooth-rough-firm textures of Niels’s lips and tongue in his mouth until lack of oxygen had broken them apart._

_People had stared, and Kip had found it easy not to care._

“Have you noticed the entire studio is watching you tattoo me?”

Kip blinked at Colette’s words. He’d been so engrossed in the action of laying down colour and shading it gently into black he’d almost forgotten he’d been watching his memory of Niels inside his own head rather than being in the  church , surrounded by people and the weight of the stone, and Niels’s warm arms.

“Is there something I oughta know?”

It was Matti who replied.

“You’re his very first client.”

“Really?” Colette’s shock sounded so genuine, Kip finally looked up from the nearly-finished tattoo, to find everyone, including one of Matti’s regular clients and friend, standing around the station, watching him. “You’re not serious?” Colette continued, “His artwork is amazing.”

“He’s an apprentice,” Jon scowled, as though he and Kip didn’t share the title. 

“Not for long,” Shay murmured, quiet enough Kip needed to replay her voice in his head to ensure he’d not imagined it.

Kip returned to his tattoo, and finished up the final highlights on the snake’s beady eye and slick scales ,  hyper-aware that his every move was being scrutinised. He wiped the tattoo a final time, applied a thin layer of anti-bacterial ointment and sat back.

“Go check it out.”

All eyes were on Colette as she stepped across to the full length mirror and turned to gaze at the snake and roses on her shoulder.

“Oh wow!”

Kip smiled to himself as he discarded his needles in the sharps bin and laid his tattoo machines back into their foam lined case before beginning to wrap his first client’s new tattoo.

“Thank you so much,” Colette beamed at him. “You can bet I’mma be tellin’ all my friends about you.”

“Thanks.” The forceful praise left Kip feeling a bit stunned as Colette was taken away by Shay to settle up. He turned to AJ, and waited, feeling unaccountably nervous.

“You’ve tattooed before.” AJ stated. “You must’ve. That was cleaner work than I’ve seen come out of dozens of other apprentices and artists who’ve been tattooing five years or more.”

“Thank you.” Kip continued waiting, knowing there would be something else.

“Lord am I glad Matti took a shine to you. If every walk in you do is that good, you’re going to be bringing us in a lot of money.”

“If we don’t lose him to someone else, that is.” Matti arched an eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t do that to you guys!” Kip replied quickly. He felt his stomach lurch at the words, knowing it was true and he couldn’t leave the men who were training him, and that even with the pull of family and the undefined promise of Niels, he wasn’t going to move to The Netherlands any time ever.

“You’re good Kip. I want you to sit in on my next black and grey tattoo, and I’ll show you a couple more shading techniques so you can get some really smooth gradients.”

“Thank you AJ.”

“Now go draw me some roses.”

Kip grinned, and even though Matti was already ribbing his friend and colleague that roses were a bit of a pointless practice subject for him, Kip sat down, grabbed his sketchbook, and did just that.

*

“Well well, you’re early.”

Kip looked up from the step where he sat to AJ standing in the street holding a bag from the grocery store and smiling.

“Mornin’,” Kip covered his yawn with one hand. “Sorry.”

“This European boyfriend of yours is keeping you up late, eh?” AJ shook his head softly, “Or are you getting up super early to talk to him too?” The big man took the step next to Kip and handed him chocolate from the bag. “Ahhh, young love.”

“I don’t know if he loves me.” Kip frowned. It was true he’d been spending a lot of time on the internet with Niels, and being able to talk face to face through the mirror of the computer screen with the Dutch boy was keeping him up in more ways than one.

“No, he just calls you every day and I’m guessing you can’t wait to see him again, either? When is it you’re back over there?”

“Next week.” Kip couldn’t keep the wistfulness and desire out of his voice, so he didn’t try. “It’s going to be great to see Ome Dirk again so soon.”

“Your family aren’t sick of you crashing on their couch?” AJ grinned at him and Kip felt relaxed enough to jab him gently on the shoulder.

“I normally have to wait years to see them.” Kip ate the chocolate AJ had given him gratefully. Staying up late had mucked about with his sleeping schedule, and figuring if he’d stayed in bed he’d oversleep, he had gone out for a run before arriving at the shop to find he was still far too early. Now it was nice to sit in the morning sun in companionable silence.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re not only going over to see your family and flirt with your boyfriend are you?” 

Kip glanced up at his boss, feeling guilty suddenly.

“Eight weeks healing time between session sets, and if your artist came here for the first one, that would add up to about the right number of hours. Convention in the fall would finish you off right on schedule,” AJ paused, as if checking his mental arithmetic. “So how are you coping with the pain?”

Kip spent a panicked second wondering if his uncle would be pissed someone had found out, but he knew Dirk Jeroen wouldn’t expect him to lie to everyone. He just wasn’t allowed to show people.

“Pretty well I think. Some stuff hurts worse than others, but I’m not looking forwards to the ribs...”

AJ didn’t question him further, and by the time Matti and Jon showed up, Kip was washing the glass frontage of the shop.

“Up early were we?” the blue haired tattooist grinned.

“An’ back in your proper place I see,” Jon chipped in cockily. He slunk into the shop before either Matti or Kip could say anything.

“Don’t you mind him,” Matti scowled, and then shielded his eyes from the sun before smiling at Kip. “Just keep your head down, and do clean tattoos.”

“Yes Matti.”

In his remaining week Kip did three more tattoos, two of which asked for him specifically, though only one was by name, the other by the description of ‘Colette sent me for the kid with the blond hair and the skills’. AJ had barely even glanced at his final drawing before approving it, and Kip had become more adept at using the stencil machine, though the thought of it chewing up a drawing still made him shudder internally. Jon had two walk ins to deal with, and Kip had heard AJ scowling over his artwork, and made him re-draw at least one of them. Matti taught him how to shade in circles and how to blend his inks to create more effective colour gradients, and he spent his last afternoon working on a complicated composition AJ had him draw up, using his own shoulder as a template, in Aztec style tribal. 

That night Kip packed his bag and read the final message on his phone before he boarded the plane.

_Counting the hours until I can kiss you again! xxx Niels_

*

Kip stripped out of his shirt and waited patiently whilst his uncle inspected him. He knew already his tattoos had healed up well, he’d followed every instruction, and every inch of his inked skin glowed with colour. It was almost, almost possible to forget he was looking at his own body when he studied the pictures he wore. His uncle traced soft finger tips over the shape of the Pharaoh on his back and gestured to the tattoo bench.

“Good boy, ga maar liggen. We have to work on ribs next.”

“This is going to hurt, isn’t it?” Kip did as directed and lay flat on his spine so that Dirk Jeroen could apply the pre-measured stencils to the left side of his rib cage. Hathor and the disc of the sun floated on his skin before Dirk took a marker and began to join the river and crocodile on his hip, blending them into his abdomen with the soft fronds of river reeds and bulrushes. 

“You ready?”

“Ja.”

Kip knew he’d spent the whole time on his tattoo so far sitting like a champ. That was how AJ always described clients who could soak up the pain without flinching and flexing, the ones who made tattooing fun, easy, and pleasant. Kip had made it his aim, right from the day he’d first decided he wanted to wear forever one of the amazing full body pieces his uncle was famous for, to ensure he did everything he could to make the work he wore bring more recognition to the name they both shared. He was a competition piece, the most important thing his uncle would tattoo for well over a year, and possibly a lot longer if he won, and even though the needle moving so close over his skeleton made him want to cry, he didn’t. Kip tucked his bicep under the back of his head, wove his fingers together so he wouldn’t clench them, and locked his jaw to keep from whimpering out his pain as his uncle drew indelibly on his skin. 

For five hours, he didn’t move a single muscle, apart from those he needed to breathe with, and when Dirk Jeroen finally let him up for a break, Kip stood up to find his legs had gone to sleep, and ended up on hands and knees on the studio floor.

“Neef? Are you alright little Kip?”

“Ja. I’m OK.”

His uncle helped him up and rubbed his back.

“You did eat breakfast this morning, right?”

Kip nodded.

“Rest, use the bathrooms. I’ll get us some food.”

“Can I go outside and get some air?” Kip found he was panting, and each deep breath caused his half-finished tattoo to stab him anew.

“Of course. Let me wrap you up.”

“I’ll do it Oom; I know how.”

“Oke dan...” Dirk Jeroen looked at him out of the corner of one eye, and Kip knew his uncle was worried he was pushing himself too far. “Remember to put a shirt on.”

Kip winced as he smeared ointment on himself, then wrapped his ribs temporarily with film, and pulled on his shirt even more gingerly than he’d done after his back was inked. He found a sports drink and half a packet of imported Chips Ahoy! in his satchel, and used the back stairs to exit The Alkmaar Tattoo centre without anyone noticing him. He wandered down the Hekelstraat, phone in hand, and wondered where Niels was in the middle of the day.

“Ga maar zonder mij,” Niels’s voice sounded distant. “Met Niels?”

“It’s me.”

“American!” Niels’s smile was obvious just from the way he spoke. “Kip! Waar ben je, are you free?”

“Ja. We’re on a break. What are you up to?”

“Going to have lunch with some friends on the Verdronkenoord. Where are you?”

“Not far,” Kip could already see the canal in front of him, “the Platte Stenenbrug.”

“I’ll be right there. Stay exactly where you are.”

“Ja...” Kip stood staring at the tables and chairs of the cafe, listening to the water of the canal flow underneath his feet, trying not to think about how hard his heart was beating. His rational brain told him it wasn’t such a good idea to meet Niels in the middle of the day halfway through a ten hour tattoo session, especially if he wanted to keep his secret, but the moment he’d heard the Dutch boy’s voice, he knew he’d had no choice in the matter. Niels made him feel special, and that was far too intoxicating to give up easily.

“American!” Kip had no idea how Niels managed to make the title sound like some kind of secret joke, like calling him ‘American’ made him somehow special even though the word could be applied to nearly three hundred and twenty million other people. Kip felt his pulse crowd his ears as he saw Niels half running towards him. “You’re here!”

Kip didn’t have time to stay anything before Niels’s arms went around him, and the pain was a punch in the gut soothed instantly by the kiss planted on his lips. Kip kissed him back like he was drowning, but it was far better than thinking about being in pain.

“I missed you,” only after Niels set him down again did either of them regain the ability to speak. “You taste like sugar.”

Kip held up the now empty packet of Chips Ahoy! guiltily. 

“That is not a lunch!” Niels looked horrified. “Come with me and join my friends. I can’t wait for them to meet you.”

“Niels...” Kip bit his lip and smiled; no one had ever wanted to show him off before. “I can’t, I have to get back soon.”

“Where?” Niels arched an eyebrow at him.

“I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.”

“And I was planning on feeling you up under the table,” Niels rolled his eyes, “you’re cute when you blush. Het is schattig.”

“I missed you too, y’know.”

“Ja?” Niels’s grin was full of a smug confidence Kip found strangely sexy.

“Ja. Been thinking about you a lot. ‘s Nachts.” Kip felt Niels’s fingers tickling his spine, heading south, and the movement pulled them closer together. “Tonight?”

“Yes please.” Niels stopped short of the waistband of Kip’s trousers and took his chin instead, tilting his face upwards for a searing kiss. “Come to my apartment? I will make you dinner.”

“OK.”

“I’ll see you later, American. Tot kijk!”

It wasn’t until after Niels had vanished from sight Kip wondered how he was going to avoid his tattoo being detected when they would be alone in Niels’s apartment. The Dutch boy’s embrace had told him he was not the only one who’d been missing some late night company.

Kip wandered back to the Alkmaar Tattoo Centre with his ribs aching and his mind reeling, ate what his uncle gave him, and continued to lie on one side, unmoving, while his uncle injected ink into some very specific and painful places under his skin.

*

“Kom binnen, Kip.” Niels’s tone was excited, and Kip could hardly wait for the buzzer to sound and allow him entrance to the apartment building. He shouldered his way through the front door, and began climbing the stairs, wine in hand.

Kip had thought his aunt and uncle would be upset he’d promised his first night with them away to someone else, but he’d been sent out with directions and a good bottle of wine from his aunt’s collection, and told to have fun. Kip had stopped enroute and bought flowers for his date, but had been second guessing his decision ever since. He and Niels had spent far more time talking than Kip thought other ‘holiday romance’ couples did. And though it had been easier with the knowledge Kip would be returning soon, at no point during the time he’d been home, had Kip ever doubted what he felt was real. Now he knocked on Niels’s front door, wondering if the Dutch boy felt the same thing, or if Kip’s imagination had been playing tricks on him.

“Well hey,” Niels opened the door with a wide grin, and Kip stared. His host was wearing a pair of well fitted jeans and nothing else but a smear of what appeared to be oil and a dishcloth over one shoulder. His hair was ruffled, but his sparkling eyes shone for Kip. “Come on in. Dinner’s being… tricky.”

“Tricky?”

“Ja.” Niels turned away from him and headed back to the kitchen. Kip scanned every inch of him as he followed. “I may have overschatte… er, overestimated my cooking skills.”

Kip sniffed the air, his brow furrowing.

“What was it supposed to be?”

“Ovenschotel?” Niels offered, as though unsure of his original intentions. “Do you cook?”

“No,” Kip replied, and laughed.

They ended up on Niels’s couch, sharing the wine and Thai food the Dutch boy had ordered when it became clear they were going to have to abandon the kitchen and any hope of rescuing the ingredients he’d successfully turned into gloop. Niels hadn’t bothered to put any more clothes on, and Kip found it increasingly hard not to stare openly at his smooth skin and rounded muscles. Niels filled him in on the lunch he’d missed, and Kip ate spicy prawns with his bare fingers and showed Niels the pictures of all the tattoos he’d so far completed.

“You’re very good. You must take after your uncle.”

“Dank je,” Kip remembered the long drawn out sting of the needle in his skin, but smiled. “I am very lucky.”

“Will you tattoo anyone while you’re here?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t. Ome Dirk is a wonderful artist, but he’s not my teacher. I wouldn’t do that to AJ.” Kip felt a sharp stab of longing for the studio of Brick and Tenth and the artists who worked there. “I was sort of surprised he gave me a job really. He trusts me, I think, so I couldn’t do anything as rash as to tattoo somebody on the other side of the world.”

“Does that mean,” Niels set his glass down close to Kip’s own and leant forwards across the width of the couch, “if I want you to do me, I have to come to Texas?”

“Umm...” Kip was lost for words, because the movement had brought Niels’s nearly naked form close enough for him to feel the other man’s body heat, and he was pinned under his gaze. Niels’s tone couldn’t be misinterpreted, and Kip knew he hadn’t made up the hungry look in his eyes. “I...”

It was the last thing he said for a long time, because Niels simply found his lips and kissed him as though it was the sole purpose of his existence. Kip melted underneath him, pulled Niels down on top of his body, even though he ached, and lost himself under the onslaught of the Dutch boy’s tongue. When he finally surfaced for air, Niels began to kiss down his jaw and neck, fingers deftly dealing with the buttons on his shirt. Kip made a strangled sort of noise and grabbed Niels’s wrist hard.

“No...”

Niels stopped kissing his chest, and Kip found himself incredibly gratefully he did not yet sport any ink on his front above his sternum.

“Kip?” The subtleties of Niels’s expression were unreadable, but Kip knew by looking at him, and by feeling the hot hard muscle pressing into his hip, that Niels was wanting more than kissing. “Is there something you want to tell me?” When Kip didn’t answer, Niels’s smile became soft and understanding. “Ben je nog maagd?”

Kip had been working on his Dutch, but he had no idea what Niels meant.

“Sorry?”

Niels kissed him again, gently.

“Are you a virgin, Kip?”

Kip felt suddenly very small and very young, half lying on Niels’s couch, hands pressed against the Dutch boy’s skin. He almost let go, but Kip fought his shyness and pulled Niels back down into a better embrace.

“Ja. Sorry.”

Niels held his jaw and kissed him until they were both panting. He nipped gently at Kip’s neck, but didn’t try and move lower. Kip felt the tension running through his body hitch up another notch. He kissed Niels again, fiercely, trying to cover his admission and the half-hearted, unnecessary apology. They ended up on the floor, Kip trying not to squash his partner until Niels hugged him hard. Kip fought the urge to wince at the pain in his ribs.

“We can go slow,” Niels said it like he hadn’t been hoping for more, “Kissing’s good.”

“Better than vis taart?” Kip asked, one eyebrow arched.

“Better than Thai food,” Niels replied, and they giggled.

*

“Hi, I’m here for an appointment with Kip?” The young guy at the counter could not have said the words to a worse person, and Jon turned away from him to glower at the other apprentice. Kip stood, but let AJ leave his drawings and go ahead of him towards the client. Kip was sure he recognised the black haired man from somewhere, but couldn’t place him. “Is it Kip, or Kit? Caan wasn’t sure.”

“How’d you hear about him?” AJ kept his tone level and friendly, but Kip understood his concern. He and Jon were only supposed to be taking walk ins, and Kip hadn’t even tried to make an appointment with anyone. He’d hardly even told any of his friends from outside the shop he was tattooing already.

“A guy came into my boyfriend’s studio like, three weeks ago, raving about this dude who’d tattooed an excellent Japanese style shark on him, and we got talking. I called up last week and made an appointment.” He shrugged and turned to Kip, “You’re him, right?”

“I wasn’t here last week,” Kip spoke to AJ. “I was visiting family.”

“I made the appointment,” Shay looked up at AJ from her bench, and something passed between them Kip couldn’t understand. “I knew Kip would have a blank day in his schedule.”

There was a long pause during which Jon glared hard at Kip as if trying to take him to pieces with his eyes. Then AJ smiled.

“Kip, go consult with your client.”

“But-!”

“Jon, go take out the trash,” AJ cut him off, “and then I want a flash page of cars and hot-rods by lunch.”

Kip smiled at the young man with the chocolate brown eyes.

“Hi. So what is it you’re after?”

“I was kind of hoping you could do something with a leg? I’d love another shark.”

“Another shark?” Kip sat with his client at the main drawing table and took up pencil and sketchbook, ready to make notes. Rather than explain, the man peeled off his jacket to show an incredibly colourful and beautiful sleeve tattoo. Pride of place in the Aztec patterns, was a dog shark so well defined and textured Kip nearly reached out to stroke it. “That’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“Any reason you’re not getting the same artist to do the next one?” Kip couldn’t help but be curious. It was one of the tattoos his uncle had warned him about, and for the first time since starting on his bodysuit, Kip wished for a fleeting second, he could get inked by the guy who’d done such fantastic work.

“I was sort of hoping for something a bit darker, a touch more tough, perhaps?” His client explained with a grin. “The ‘other artist’ is my boyfriend. He’ll create me something lovely when he’s ready, but if he did every tattoo I ever imagined...”

“You’d be out of skin already.” Kip surmised correctly. “Uh huh, lower or upper leg?”

“Lower.”

Kip grinned, watching pattern, colour, and fins swimming together in his mind.

“Well let’s get you all measured up, shall we?”

Kip waved his client off before going over to the big studio diary, and filling in Ryker’s six hour appointment for the following week. When he wrote his name in the space next to ‘artist’ his chest swelled.

“That’s a big tattoo, you sure you’re ready for it?” Matti asked him.

“Yes, but you guys will be here right, in case?”

“Ha! The chances of you needing help are about the same as us all getting squashed by the sun.” It made Kip almost deliriously happy to hear Matti’s hyperbolic praise. “But we’ll be here. You’d better get on, you’ve got some drawing to do!”

Kip went back to his sketch pad, used his phone to find images of the super-fast blue shark Ryker so adored, and began to draw. Drawing still held sway over his brain, and he couldn’t switch off, aware of every movement of the pencil against the page as he roughed out the general composition. Like his client’s other tattoo, he wanted to combine slick tribal shapes into the swirling water of the background, and began to add Polynesian swirls and flourishes in with his pencil. By the time he had a design he was happy to start cleaning up, the studio was softly quiet, with Shay and Matti busy with clients, Jon tattooing a walk in customer, and AJ sat at the computer, apparently arguing jovially with the accounting software. Kip made a copy of his sketch, just in case he screwed it up, and went over to the light box in order to start tracing a cleaned up version.

“Kip?” The fact that Jon had barely used his name before made Kip look up. Jon was wiping the traditional swallow he’d just finished outlining on his client’s ankle. Even from across the room, Kip could tell the outline was slightly wonky, and the thickness wasn’t very consistent. 

“Yes?”

“I didn’t set up enough ink pots, could you grab me a couple more? Please?” Kip almost dropped his pencil in shock, but he nodded, and went over to AJ’s station. Jon was frowning at his tattoo, and Kip wondered if he’d learnt to recognise his own shortcomings. 

“Sure thing. How many do you need?” Kip ducked behind the ink cupboard to get more dip pots, his other hand smearing Vaseline on the sterilised surface to stick them to automatically.

Afterwards, he couldn’t say what had made him look up and move; there might have been a faint brush against his pale arm hairs, it might have been the sharp buzz of the tattoo machine, the chair could have creaked, but Kip wasn’t aware of any of those things. He looked up, saw Jon’s face twisted into an angry sneer, saw the contaminated needle of the tattoo machine dangerously close to his skin and jumped backwards, pulling the ink cart over with him. The commotion was instantaneous, the client yelped and swore, Jon cursed, Kip scrambled back from the senior apprentice, knowing he’d made a mess and knowing there was ink staining his clothes and hands. AJ was on his feet inside a second, tearing the power lead from the wall, and Kip couldn’t think of much more than Matti’s strong arms around him, helping him up and keeping him in place.

“What the fuck just happened?” Kip had never heard AJ’s voice so piled with rage. He rounded on Jon, and the young man quaked in fear. “What did you do?”

Kip glanced down at his arm, he was splattered with ink, but the needle hadn’t touched him. It was going to take some scrubbing to get rid of the stain, but the needle hadn’t touched him.

“N-nothing!” Jon stuttered, but AJ had already grabbed his shirt and pulled the tattoo machine off him.

“Shay, look after the shop. Kip, finish this guy’s tattoo and don’t charge him anything. Matti, bring this,” he shook Jon before letting him go, “and come with me.”

It was very quiet in the shop as Shay allowed her client to take a break and began to clear up the mess made by Kip’s rush to get away from being permanently mauled. Kip tried to apologise half a dozen times, but Shay shushed him, and instead he washed as much ink as he could from his skin before donning a pair of latex gloves, setting up all over again with a new needle set at the correct depth this time, and began to re-ink Jon’s client.

“I’m very sorry about that.”

“Dude,” the client sounded shocked, “you don’t gotta be sorry. I can’t believe he tried to do that to you. You guys have a fight of somethin’?”

“Not as far as I know,” Kip tried to smile at him. “Now let’s get this bird of yours ready to fly, shall we?”

It took a bit of work to clean up the tattoo Jon had started, and Kip was forced to add to the outline in order to frame the bird properly and get the anatomy correct. By the time he was shading in a nice soft blue, Jon, Matti, and AJ reappeared from the back of the shop. None of them looked happy, but Jon looked like he was trying hard not to cry. In silence, Jon collected his bag and the pile of half-finished sketches he’ d left sitting on a side table, and without a backwards glance, he left the shop. Kip didn’t say anything, but finished up his client’s tattoo, soothed and wrapped it, and sent the man away with a happy smile. Only then did he dare to approach the front desk where AJ and Matti both stood, looking serious.

“You know we’ll have to email out to all the other shops in the area? He can’t be allowed to take up at one of those either.”

“I know,” AJ sounded suddenly tired, “it’s not how I would have wanted it to work out.”

“No one did,” Matti replied, “but at least Kip has damn quick reflexes.” Matti patted him on the shoulder. “You alright there kiddo? Stopped shaking yet?”

“Yeah, thanks Matti.” Kip didn’t want to ask the obvious question, but simply looked to AJ. “Boss?”

“You’re not hurt?”

“No permanent damage sir.”

“Good. I can’t have one of my artist’s sporting bad ink now, can I?”

“Sir?” Kip was sure his ears must’ve played some kind of evil trick on him.

“We’re going to have to build you your own station, aren’t we?” AJ’s smile was broad and warm. “And we’re going to all have to get used to setting up for ourselves again now that we don’t have an apprentice.”

“AJ?” Kip could barely believe what he was hearing. “Really?”

“Oh yes. You and Matti are going to have to hold the fort while Shay and I are at the convention anyway, though I hear you’re going to be there for a few days too. Welcome to The Brick and Tenth, Kip.”

Kip squealed, and flung his arms around AJ’s neck.

“Yes!”

“I told you he’d be happy boss,” Matti laughed. “Come on Kip, let go of him. You and I get to go to the printers and get artwork made for your new space.”

Kip didn’t care much what had happened to Jon. He was safe, he was respected, and he’d been given a job that paid after what was probably the world’s shortest ever tattoo apprenticeship. He took his portfolio and grinned for the rest of the day.

*

It was a strange thing, having spent a hundred and eighty hours being tattooed in total private and near-secrecy, to sit in the convention hall in his uncle’s booth, being tattooed with hundreds of people staring at him. Kip had learnt very quickly that some convention goers tried to be chatty, and kept on wanting to talk to him or his uncle about the work he was getting, or more often, about work they themselves wanted. Even though Dirk Jeroen had a sign up saying he wouldn’t be working on convention clients until the fourth day, people still wanted to know if he could squeeze them in. Kip discovered it was easier to ignore them than to try and disengage an over enthusiastic conversationalist. Instead of listening in to observers discussing him, Kip focused on the humming of his uncle’s tattoo machine, and thought about the man he wanted to call his boyfriend.

_He’d stood, phone in hand, and shown Niels around the tattoo studio._

“ _This is where we do most of our drawings,” he grinned, even though with the camera facing the other way, Niels couldn’t see him, “and this is the space the guys built for me.”_

_It was a small work area, but Kip had a black padded bench, second hand and in good repair, a swivel wheeled work stool, and a brand new stainless steel ink cabinet with colourful dragon designs on the door. More importantly, he had four large framed prints up on the wall, and a sign in Matti’s excellent hand lettering, bearing his name._

“ _That’s so cool!” Niels sounded genuinely impressed, “I’m so happy for you American. Is that the shark tattoo you told me about?”_

_Kip glanced up at the photo of his first real client’s leg. The blue shark had come out beautifully, compl_ _e_ _mented the shape of Ryker’s leg and worked with his other tattoo. When Ryker’s boyfriend had come to pick him up from his appointment, Kip had felt his work was being critically appraised by the other artist. Matti had greeted the colourfully tattooed man like they were old friends, and it had been a good day._

“ _Yeah. Hey, you wanna see what Oom sent me?”_

“ _Ja.”_

_Kip had opened up the ink cabinet and pulled out his case of tattoo machines. His uncle had congratulated him loudly and at length, and two weeks later a parcel had arrived at the studio, plastered with stamps of pears and windmills. The Dan Kubin brushed nickel Sidewinder was an ultimate outlining tattoo machine, and Kip adored the cleanliness it produced. Even AJ, with his huge collection of machines, had whistled appreciatively as Kip had unwrapped the package._

“ _Sexy,” Niels’s voice had a lilt Kip recognised from their late night phone calls. “Turn me around, I miss seeing you.”_

_Kip span the phone around, and was greeted by the sight of the Dutch boy, who had somehow found the time to become topless whilst they’d been talking. Kip sat down heavily on his tattoo bench as Niels smiled at him._

“ _Much better,” his voice was low and husky, and Kip was incredibly happy he was the only person who’d stayed after hours in the shop in order to negate the time difference which kept Niels seeing where he worked. “I miss you Kip.”_

“ _I miss you too.” Kip imagined Niels’s lips on his own and sighed softly. “I wish you were here.”_

“ _Binnenkort,” Niels whispered, “You gonna show me what I’m missing, American?”_

“ _Niels!” Kip tried to be shocked, but truthfully Niels’s suggestion had a frankly lewd effect on his anatomy. “I...”_

“ _Then I’ll show you.” Niels’s image went out of focus, and Kip knew he was sending him a kiss. “I spent a long time thinking about you naakt.”_

_Kip felt his breathing becoming more and more uneven, as his view changed from Niels’s face and tracked down his bare torso. He followed the Dutch boy’s fingers as they traced the shapes of his abdomen down to the waistband of his trousers. Even in the half light from the phone screen, Kip knew he was not imagining the thickening bulge there._

“ _Niels!”_

“ _I got you going now, haven’t I Kip?” Niels practically purred. “You’re so cute when you blush.”_

“ _Umm...” Kip had set his teeth in his lower lip and decided the man he hoped to call his boyfriend deserved something for being so patient. With a delighted smile that brought forth an exclamation of joy and desire from the other side of the planet, Kip had touched himself through his clothes._

“So how are things with you and Niels, little Kip?” His uncle was shading on his chest, right over his heart, and Kip had to concentrate to breathing evenly in between strokes.

“Really good. I miss him loads, but I can’t just up and vanish again so soon. AJ needs me.”

“You think he might come over here?”

“Lord, I hope so.” Kip glanced over at his uncle, and smiled. “Thank you Oom.”

“Whatever for mijn Neef?

Kip looked down at his exposed chest, highly decorated and practically glowing with colour and pattern. Dirk Jeroen caught his eyes and grinned back.

“Oh, nothing,” Kip replied, and they laughed.

*

“Is that all I get to wear?”

“Ja.”

“Doesn’t leave much to the imagination, does it?” Kip took the garment, though calling it clothing was rather generous, and stared at it. “Though I supposed that’s the point.”

“You’ll look great.”

“Thanks Oom.”

“I gotta get back out there. You’ll come when they call you, OK?”

“Ja.” His uncle vanished back out into the packed convention hall, and Kip was left alone to change. 

His tattoo had been finished on the third day of the convention, but judging wasn’t until the tenth, and while other canvases had wandered around looking at all the other artists, Kip had been back at the shop, working on clients and walk ins. He had healed up well, and the previous night had shaved everywhere, then scrubbed and exfoliated his skin until he shone. Now he dropped his boxers, and tucked himself into the little blue fabric pouch his uncle had given him, settling the slightly springy plastic under-wire in the furrow of his ass. The underwear was clever, if very revealing, and there were no straps to break up the pattern of the river and crocodiles that swam over his hips. Kip took a moment to stroke the pointed ears of Anubis on his chest, and smiled down at the dog. 

“At least I won’t be alone out there, eh boy?” Kip wrapped a blanket around his shoulders to keep from shivering, and waited, listening to the shouting and cheers from the hall outside. 

His uncle had explained each canvas was appraised individually, and then there would be a line up, lots of staring, and the judging. Either way, there would be quite a lot of standing for photos. Dirk Jeroen Meijer was the last to be judged, of course, and Kip found himself tapping one foot, and wishing it was already over. He had spent two hundred hours and nearly three years sitting, waiting, and wishing for this moment, but now the only person he really wanted to show off for was half way around the globe. Kip thought of Niels, and hoped he could find a way to see the Dutch boy soon.

There was a swell of cheering from the other side of the doors, and Kip heard his cue. He left the blanket, walked from the room, down the little curtained corridor, and out onto the stage. Kip had never felt so exposed in his life, but he wasn’t there as himself. He found his uncle’s smile, grinned back, and strode out onto the stage as though he wasn’t wearing about enough cloth to inadequately cover a small bunch of grapes. He turned slowly on the spot when he reached the white mark on the floor, and saw above the heads of the crowd, his own image reflected back from the big screens. Kip could hardly believe he was looking at himself, because the man in the video was confident, self-assured, and beautiful. Kip’s smile only became brighter.

He barely listened to his uncle talking about the work on his skin, explaining the meaning behind the tattoo, and let himself be turned and gestured to, holding out his arm to show off the sleeve which featured the Goddess Bast commanding a host of smaller human figures. Kip knew he could sit like a champ, and decided standing as one for appraisal took about as much concentration. An official cameraman moved around him, taking close up photographs which were shown instantly on the big screen so the judges could critique individual lines and colour tones. It wasn’t until the cameraman drew back to take a head and shoulders snapshot that Kip was roused from his concentrated modelling by a voice in the crowd.

“American?”

He glanced around, scanning the sea of faces.

“Niels?”

There at the front was the Dutch boy, his shoulder conspicuously bandaged to protect fresh ink, waving frantically. Kip grinned, and hoped he wasn’t blushing too hard. 

After that, Kip barely heard anything at all, because it took all his resolve not to just leap down off the stage and wrap his arms around Niels and never let go. He only realised his uncle had won when his own image flashed back up on screens all around the convention hall, and Dirk Jeroen Meijer wrapped his nephew in an enormous hug.

“JA! Gefeliciteerd!” Dirk almost shouted in his ear and Kip hugged him back. His uncle stared at him in wonder. “I’m so proud of you, little Kip.”

“Thank you Oom,” Kip kissed his cheek, and this time, his uncle knew he meant it. “You’re the best.”

“Yes I am,” Dirk grinned and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “smile for the cameras mijn Neef!”

The photographs, and the award seemed to take forever, but by the time his uncle had been officially certified as the winner of the International Tattoo Bodysuit Competition, Kip was desperate to find the Dutch boy. He went with Dirk back into the room where he had changed, pulled on a pair of shorts, and practically ran back to the convention hall.

“Hey!”

“Congratulations dude!”

“Awesome!”

People tried to talk to him left and right, but Kip only had eyes for Niels. The Dutch boy had found his way to the right place, and waited with his arms resting on the barrier by the stage, grinning from ear to ear.

“Not so shy now, American?” his grin was cocky, and Kip felt his anatomy do interesting things inside his skimpy underwear.

Kip smiled.

“Haven’t you left a guy waiting long enough?” he asked, holding out his arms. “Get over here.”

Niels wasted no more time, and Kip kissed him back as hard as he could. No one apart from his uncle and himself had ever touched his decorated skin, and Kip couldn’t wait to have Niels explore every single inch of him.

It was totally worth the wait.

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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